


In the Morning Light

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage kink, Bottom!Stiles, Established Relationship, Fingering, Love, M/M, Sleepy Sex, Smut, Spanking Kink, Top!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Derek's finishing up some work when Stiles wakes up and seduces him back to bed.





	In the Morning Light

It’s early, the room slowly filling with soft morning light as it filters in through the slates of the blinds. The only sounds Derek can hear are the soft clacking of his keyboard as he types and Stiles’ quiet snoring slipping out from beneath the heavy covers. The sound of it makes him smile. It’s a reassuring sound, a reminder that Stiles is home and safe in bed instead of out in the world fighting crime and sassing bad guys.

The soft snores gradually grow louder as Derek continues to work and then cuts off abruptly like they always do just before Stiles wakes up. Derek smiles to himself and scans over his final draft one last time before he deems it worthy to email to his publisher. He’s a day late, but Boyd will probably let him slide on it this time. He knows what Derek’s been doing all week instead of writing.

“Mm, Derek,” Stiles murmurs tiredly from behind him, voice rough with sleep.

Derek shuts down his laptop then twists around in his chair to look at where Stiles is lounging on their bed, his blue eyes heavily lidded and a sleepy smile on his lips.

Derek’s heart stutters in his chest at the sight of it. It always does. “What,” he asks Stiles quietly.

“Stop typing,” Stiles yawns and stretches his arms above his head, several bones pop and Stiles gives a happily little groan. “Come to bed.”

 “Stiles, it’s 9 in the morning.”

“So?” Stiles mumbles as he rolls over onto his stomach kicking the blanket and sheet to the floor. He buries his face in Derek’s pillow and hums happily. “Come over here, dumbass.”

“What for,” Derek asks curiously because Stiles is star-fished across the bed and there’s no room for Derek to crawl in anywhere. If anything, Stiles should be getting out of bed, he has work in just a few hours.

Stiles mumbles something into the pillow, voice muffled and indistinct. He wiggles around atop the bed, his toes curling as he waits for Derek to respond.

“What was that,” Derek asks with a small laugh. Anyone who knows Stiles knows that the human isn’t a morning person in any capacity. It takes Stiles nearly an hour after opening his eyes to really wake up and even then, it’s only after two cups of black coffee. “Stiles, I don’t speak pillow.”

There’s a tiny huff as Stiles twists his head to the side, his eyes settling on Derek, liquid gold and honey tones pinning him in place.

“I said,” Stiles repeats, his voice low and raspy, the sound of it making Derek shiver. “I want you to fuck me, Derek.”

“Stiles, you’re not even awake yet,” Derek points out despite his body going warm with want.

Stiles whines deep in his throat, his hands moving from beneath Derek’s pillow down to his waist where his thumbs hook into the soft material of his grey sweatpants. He pushes them down slowly, his ass swaying side to side as it comes into view.

“Derek, please,” he murmurs.

Derek’s mouth goes dry at the sight as he takes it all in. He’s been with Stiles for over a year and a half, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over just how beautiful Stiles is, how perfect and good and  _his._  He swallows thickly, his heart hammering in his chest. He loves this idiot so much.

“Derek,” Stiles whines out, elongating his name like he always does when he thinks Derek is being difficult. Derek licks his lips and slides from his chair, his feet moving quietly against the wooden floor as he crosses the room and crawls onto the bed behind Stiles.

He moves up the bed, his hands traveling along Stiles’ sides, pushing up his old lacrosse hoodie so that he can touch Stiles’ sleep warm skin.

“Morning,” Stiles says turning his face to look at him, a goofy smile spreading across his mouth.

“Morning,” Derek says back and leans down to kiss him softly, Stiles’ mouth is pliant against his, easily opening up. Stiles’ tongue slips lazily into his mouth and Derek sucks on it, drawing quiet moans from him as he slowly ruts against the bed. Derek releases his tongue to bite down on Stiles’ bottom lip, a sharp nip of his teeth that he soothes over with another languid kiss.

Stiles hums contentedly against his mouth before pulling back. “I want you,” he says completely unabashed, his eyes burning into Derek’s, his hand fiddling with the hem of Derek’s sweats. “Please?”

“Oh?” Derek teases, his hands sliding along smooth skin up and down Stiles’ back, fingers mapping out the bumps of Stiles’ spine. “And, how do you want me, Stiles?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but there’s the ghost of a smile on his bitten lips. “How do you think?”

Derek doesn’t answer just moves his hand down to Stiles’ ass and squeezes once, his eyes watching as the skin turns white and then red beneath his fingers. He turns his eyes back to Stiles and leans in for one last quick kiss before pulling away and sliding down the bed. He hooks his hands into the soft fabric of Stiles’ sweats, pulls them all the way down and drops them to the floor.

“Spread your legs for me, Stiles,” Derek murmurs as he moves his hands up the back of Stiles’s legs to his thighs. Stiles pulls his legs up getting his knees beneath him and spreads them wide, exposing himself to Derek’s eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” Derek tells him, voice breathy as he dips down low and places a kiss on Stiles’ tailbone. He mouths along the skin, leaving a shiny trail of saliva in his wake as he makes his ways down to Stiles’ rim. He licks across it once with the flat of his tongue, then again, harder.

Stiles whines beneath him, his ass pressing back against Derek’s face and rocking. Derek groans, grips Stiles’ thighs tight enough to bruise. He presses his face closer, his tongue firming, catching on the rim of Stiles’ opening and stretching it until he can wriggle his tongue inside. He holds his head still as Stiles ruts against him, fucking himself back onto Derek’s tongue. Derek revels in the choked-out sounds that come from his boyfriend, the noises high and needy, each one going straight to Derek’s cock and making him burn with arousal.

“Derek,” Stiles whimpers, pushing his face further into Derek’s pillow and breathing in deeply like he’s trying to use Derek’s scent to ground himself. Derek can smell how turned on Stiles is, how wet he’s making the sheet with his precum. The smell of it fills up the room, makes the air intoxicating.

Derek hums against him questioningly and enjoys the stuttered out little breath that gets trapped in Stiles’ lungs at the vibration. He smiles against Stiles ass and leans back, his lips just barely brushing across Stiles’ skin.

“What is it, Stiles?” he asks moving his hand up to brush his fingers teasingly along Stiles’ hole. “Do you need something?”

“Yes,” Stiles whispers as he pushes against Derek making it clear what he wants. Stiles’ hands are tangled in the sheets beneath them, tugging at them so hard Derek thinks they might rip. They’ll have to buy new ones _again_ if they do. “ _Please?”_

Derek’s never been able to resist Stiles, especially when he begs so nicely. He pulls away reluctantly, the nightstand suddenly seeming too far away as he slides off the bed to rummage through it for the lube. He hears a quiet moan and his head jerks to the side, his hand caught in the drawer, fingers wrapped around the familiar bottle of lubricant.

Stiles has tossed away his lacrosse hoodie and has an arm trapped between him and the mattress. His pretty mouth is parted as he pants for breath, his hand working his cock, hips rocking rhythmically down.

Derek’s momentarily dazed by the sight, of Stiles’ flushed red cheeks and sleep mused hair. He narrows his eyes at the sneaky human and growls. “ _Stiles.”_

Stiles’ eyes flutter open, the honey of his irises nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils. He grins cheekily at Derek and then moans loudly as he moves his hand faster. “Better hurry, Derek,” Stiles whispers.

Derek snatches the lube from the drawer, pauses, and then pulls out something else. Stiles stares at him imploringly, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. Derek watches him as he walks back towards the bed, sees the exact second Stiles catches on to what Derek has planned because Stiles’ eyes widen and his heart stutters before kicking up into an excited pace.

“Hands on the rail, Stiles,” Derek demands and lets the soft cords slip through his fingers like an uncoiling snake. “ _Now.”_

There’s a shuddery inhale as Stiles releases his cock and shakily moves his hands to the rail, placing them in the spots he knows are the most comfortable to be tied to. Derek can smell his arousal and his anticipation. They both know that Stiles was naughty on purpose.  _He always is._

Derek unwinds the cords and wraps them carefully around Stiles’ wrists, making sure not to cut off too much of his circulation as he binds Stiles to the bed rails.

“You were bad, Stiles,” Derek tells him as he works, and enjoys the catch of Stiles’ breath in his chest, the widening of his eyes. Stiles is fully awake now,  _every single part of him._

Derek can’t resist leaning in and pressing a kiss to Stiles’ slackened mouth, a smirk spreading across his own as he pulls away. “And you know what happens when you’re bad,” He bites at Stiles’ chin, the morning scuff there is rough against his lips, making them tingle. “Don’t you?”

Derek presses a kiss to Stiles’ cheek and then bites it when Stiles doesn’t say anything. His teeth leaving perfect indents in the skin when he pulls back, he admires them.

“What happens when boys are bad, Stiles,” Derek asks as he moves his mouth down to Stiles’ neck, sucking bruise after bruise into the skin until he reaches Stiles’ shoulder. “Tell me?”

Stiles swallows loudly, body shifting, pressing up into Derek’s mouth, seeking out more. “They get punished.”

“That’s right,” Derek says gently, moving his mouth down Stiles’ spine, pausing every now and then to place a kiss or suck a mark. He loves how red the marks are on Stiles’ pale skin, loves how long they linger there, days—sometimes weeks.

He stops when he reaches Stiles’ tailbone and smooths his open palms over the swell of Stiles’ ass, fingers brushing along the tiny smattering of moles. “How many do you think you deserve?”

Derek taps his fingers against the skin thoughtfully, head tipping to the side. “Five, perhaps? Ten?”

“Five,” Stiles says hesitantly.

Derek clicks his tongue at the answer.

Stiles swallows thickly. “Ten?”

 “Good,” Derek hums and pulls away, body stretching to grab the lube from where he left it sitting lonely at the edge of the bed. He flicks open the cape and spreads it across the fingers of his left hand, the liquid is cold and oily, the substance dribbling over his fingers and sinking into the sheets. He rubs his fingers together, making sure they’re all nice and coated. He wants to try something a little new this time, something sure to break Stiles in the prettiest of ways.

“Head down, Stiles,” Derek directs and waits for Stiles to press his head against the pillow, his legs spreading more to allow Derek to sit between them. “Good,” He says again, and Stiles makes a happy noise at the praise.

Derek trails his sticky fingers along the cleft of Stiles’ ass, pressing in between the cheeks to rub at the little bundle of muscles. He tugs at the rim, stretching it gently then releases it. He does it twice more to drive Stiles crazy before finally sinking a single finger inside of him.

“I... I thought you were going to spank me,” Stiles says voice trembling with want as Derek twists his finger around searching for Stiles’ prostate. He knows where it is, he just likes to tease Stiles.

“I am,” Derek tells him and rubs his other hand along Stiles’ right ass cheek. He can feel Stiles tense up in anticipation. “Don’t lose count, Stiles.”

Derek smacks him, quick and sharp. The noise of the hit and Stiles’ gasp of surprise filling up the room. Stiles clenches down on his finger and trembles as it presses against his prostate.

“Derek,” he whimpers sounding wrecked after just one hit and Derek fights to hold back his grin.

“That’s not a number,” Derek says disapprovingly. “Are we going to have to start over so soon?”

“N-no,” Stiles breathes head shaking back and forth against the pillow. The longer it takes them to get through the punishment, the longer Stiles has to wait to be fucked, they both know that. “ _One_.”

“Louder, Stiles,” Derek says, “otherwise, I might lose count.”

There’s a pause, Derek listens as Stiles sucks in a steadying breath. When he speaks his voice is clear, but Derek can still hear the trembling undercurrent. “One.”

“Good,” Derek says and spanks him again before he has the chance to anticipate it.

He makes sure to press hard against Stiles’ prostate that time, leaves his finger there as Stiles clenches around him. Stiles’ thighs are trembling on either side of Derek. He wonders how long Stiles will be able to hold himself up on his knees.

“Stiles,” he says gently, a reminder. Derek doesn’t want to have to start over, but he will.

“Two,” Stiles counts out for him, catching on to the warning.

He holds off on the next hit, lets the anticipation build up between them. His hand roaming up and down the curve of Stiles’ ass as he fucks into Stiles with his finger.

“ _More,”_  Stiles mumbles into the pillow, his body rocking back against Derek’s finger.

_He knows what Stiles is asking for._

He slides his finger from Stiles’ hole and circles around it with two, taunting, teasing, reveling in the needy whines that fall from Stiles’ lips. He presses against the hole like he’s going to push in and then smacks Stiles roughly on the swell of his ass.

_He knows what Stiles wants, but bad boys don’t get treats._

“One,” Derek says after a long pause, his sticky fingers toying with Stiles’ hole.

“No,” Stiles stutters out, his fingers are turning white against the rail as he grips it hard. Derek hopes he doesn’t break it.

“ _No_?”

“It was three,” Stiles tells him, voice verging on desperate. “Please, it was three.”

“I don’t know,” Derek says and slides his finger inside him. “You didn’t say it quick enough.” 

He hums lightly as he fucks into Stiles with his finger. “How am I supposed to know what number we’re on if you’re not counting?”

“I will, I’ll count, just,” Stiles makes a noise caught somewhere between pleasure and frustration. “Please, Derek.”

“Number?” Derek asks.

“Thr—” Stiles starts but doesn’t get a chance to finish as Derek brings his hand up and smacks it down across his ass.

“Four,” he cries out quickly, his ass squeezing around Derek’s finger, pulling it in deeper.

“Good,” Derek praises and smacks him again, this time sliding a second finger into him as he does.

“Five,” Stiles says tongue stumbling over the word as Derek works his two fingers in and out, pressing down teasingly on Stiles’ prostate just enough to make him whine.

“Faster,” He begs as he tries to thrust back against Derek’s fingers.

Derek slides his hand down Stiles’ ass and between his legs to where Stiles’ cock is hanging heavily. It’s thick and throbbing, the head of it deliciously wet. Derek swipes his thumb along the sticky tip teasingly, back and forth, spreading the precum. Stiles moans, his hips faltering, unsure whether he wants to jerk into Derek’s fist or rut against the fingers pressed inside him.

“You’re so wet for me, Stiles,” Derek says, voice low and dangerous. “So needy.”

“Yes,” Stiles nods his head, his hair fanning out across the pillow, the dark locks a stark contrast to the color of the fabric. “ _Yes, Yes.”_

Derek strokes him slowly, his fist moving from the base of his hard cock up to the tip as he slides a third finger inside of Stiles and spreads them out. “Tell me, Stiles,” he murmurs leaning over the human to speak into his ear. “What number are we on?”

“We...” Stiles swallows, his voice sounding frazzled. Derek bites down on the lobe of his ear and tugs gently, pulling it into his mouth and sucking.

He releases it with a tiny wet pop when there’s no answer. “We, what?”

“Five,” Stiles says shakily as Derek pumps three fingers in and out of him at a maddening pace. The thumb of his other hands flicking at the sensitive skin beneath the head of Stiles’ cock. “We’re… We’re on five.”

“You sound unsure, Stiles,” Derek says sitting back and releasing Stiles’ cock.

He moves his hand back to Stiles’ ass, rubs a small circle into the skin and squeezes, the skin turns white beneath his grip and when he lets it go there are red fingerprints on Stiles’ flesh. He lifts his hand high and smacks.

“Six,” Stiles slurs out, ass clenching at his fingers, trying to keep them there. Derek smacks him again, harder, making Stiles yell out loud. “ _Fuck, seven!”_

“Three more,” Derek tells him, he can smell the salt of Stiles’ tears. He knows the tears are more from frustration and need than from pain. “You’re doing so good, you can wait for three more.”

Stiles nods his head quietly, his body trembling beneath Derek’s hands. Derek removes his fingers from Stiles’ hole and fumbles with undoing the tie of his sweatpants, they’re tented, a wet spot gathering on the grey material. He pulls his cock free and strokes it once, lube and precum easing the glide of his hand.

He taps his cock against Stiles’ ass, precum dripping onto Stiles’ skin. He wants to be inside Stiles, wants to fuck him nice and slow, but he has to finish Stiles’ punishment.

Derek licks his lips, his eyes tracking the little drop of precum as it slides down Stiles’ ass. He dips down low and catches it with his tongue licking up to the high swell of Stiles’ cheek. He bites down. It’s not hard enough to cause real pain but just rough enough to leave his mark.

He pulls back and admires the mark, the perfect indention of his teeth surrounded by a brilliant red and purple, the color looks lovely against Stiles’ skin. He licks his palm, wetting it and smacks down over the bite, the wet hit sounds loudly through the room and Stiles moans.

Stiles is breathing hard, his body shifting back and forth, desperately searching for friction.

“Eight.”

Derek sidles close, lines up the head of his cock with Stiles’ greedy little hole. He pushes forward, the tip of his cock smearing precum along the rim of Stiles’ ass. He rocks back and forth, slowly, until just the head is pressing inside Stiles’ tight heat and Stiles lets out a string of curses.

“Fuck, Derek,” he says and tries to push back onto Derek’s cock, but Derek stops him, grips him tightly at the waist and holds him still.

“Not yet,” Derek tells him. “You still have two more.”

Derek grinds his cock shallowly into Stiles, his head tugging at the rim, stretching it around him. He soothes his hands over Stiles’ ass then raises them both high.

He thrusts forward, cock angled at Stiles’ prostate just as both hands smack down loudly against Stiles’ ass. Stiles lets out a long low moan, his ass clenching tightly around Derek’s cock and comes untouched. Derek can smell the salty bitter scent of it seeping into the mattress. He thrusts his hips, fucking into Stiles hard, hands gripping tight to where they had landed.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Stiles chants out beneath him as Derek moves faster. “Derek,” Stiles whines out, body overly sensitive.

Stiles’ legs are shaking, barely holding him up, Derek moves his hands around Stiles’ waist and pulls him firmly back onto his cock so that he can go deeper. Stiles is tight and hot and wet inside.

“Fuck, fuck,” Stiles continues to breathe out, voice high and wrecked. “Fuck I love you.”

Derek groans, eyes fluttering closed. He can feel the heat growing low in the pit of his stomach, it drags him closer and closer to the brink of orgasm.

Derek leans forward, his claws coming out and slicing through the soft cords binding Stiles to the bed. The cords fall away, Stiles’ hands sliding down to the mattress, red rings encircling his wrists like brands. Derek doesn’t pause in his thrusts, just wraps his arms around Stiles’ chest and drags him up so that Stiles’ sitting in his lap, the humans back pressed against his chest. Derek grinds his cock up into him, the angle taking him deeper.

“Oh god,” Stiles whimpers, his hands scrambling for purchase, one of them reaching back and tangling in Derek’s hair. The other hand going to his mouth to try and smother the loud cries falling from his lips.

Derek reaches up and drags Stiles’ hand away from his mouth.

“Don’t,” he tells Stiles, lacing their fingers together. “I love the way you sound.”

Stiles moans, his head tipping forward. “Derek,” he cries shivering in Derek’s grasp. “It’s too much, I… fuck… I can’t.”

Stiles’ sensitive body squeezes around him and it’s—“Perfect,” Derek murmurs against the skin of Stiles’ neck. “So perfect.”

He bites down on the skin as he cums, a groan slipping out, muffled and low against Stiles’ neck. Stiles lets out a loud keening noise in response and cums again, his warm release coating his stomach, his hand pulling roughly at Derek’s hair making shocks of pain and pleasure shoot through Derek’s veins.

Derek grinds up slowly, riding out the waves of pleasure until he can’t handle it anymore. His heart thumping loudly in his chest, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He gently eases Stiles down on the bed and pulls out, his cum dribbling from Stiles’ reddened hole and staining the sheets further. Derek reaches out and touches it, pushes the cum back in and steals away any pain in Stiles’ body, tiny black veins travel from Stiles’ skin to Derek’s and disappear.

Stiles raises an arm and reaches out for him, his fingers closing around Derek’s wrist and tugging exhaustedly.

“Come here,” he whispers, and Derek is powerless but to comply, letting his tired body fall down next to Stiles’ on the mattress.

Stiles lifts Derek’s arm up and slides beneath it, his sticky body pressing against Derek’s, cuddling him despite how hot the room has become. A content noise leaves Stiles as he finally settles himself into a comfortable position. His head tucked beneath Derek’s chin and arms wrapped around Derek’s waist, holding him so close Derek can feel their hearts beating in tandem through their chests.

“Happy?” Derek asks tiredly, dipping his head down and nosing at Stiles’ sweaty hair, he smells like satisfaction, and love, and them all mixed together. It’s Derek’s favorite scent.

“The happiest.” Stiles murmurs, his words barely a whisper as he slowly drifts back to sleep.

“I love you,” Derek murmurs into Stiles hair, his thoughts going to the silver ring hidden away in his desk drawer. The reason he’s been so late with his final draft. There’s no way he’s not keeping this boy for life, or longer. He closes his eyes and tightens his arms around Stiles, snuggling closer. He’ll ask Stiles later when they’re both fully awake and clean.

For now, though, sleep is a good idea.


End file.
